


I Only Think In Classifications (And About Constellations)

by TangentiaLives



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Werewolves, Awkwardness, Books, Fluff, M/M, seriously, they're both dorks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-16
Updated: 2014-03-16
Packaged: 2018-01-15 22:36:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1321768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TangentiaLives/pseuds/TangentiaLives
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It might be in the stack to be re-shelved,” he replies gruffly. “Let me check you out—check it out for you.” His cheeks burn red at his slip up. Is it possible to sink into the floor and disappear?</p>
<p>A muffled noise erupts from Constellation Guy, and Derek only hunches his shoulders harder as he rifles through the pile. He can't bear to see what face the guy is making. “I don’t see it. Can’t help you.”</p>
<p>Or: in which Derek is a curmudgeon librarian and grad student who is endlessly annoyed at this idiot student who keeps messing up his system and simultaneously being too hot to handle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Only Think In Classifications (And About Constellations)

That annoying kid is back. Derek sourly watches through his black-rimmed glasses, lips pursed, as the lanky, loud-mouthed student that _ruins_ his carefully organized (by the Library of Congress’ system, no less) bookshelves bounces down the Sci-Fi section and into Self-Help. He could use some self-help, that’s for sure: self-help in the art of _shutting up and obeying library rules_.

He takes a deep breath, pulling down the hem of his cream, cable knit sweater. It’s okay, he reassures himself. He can put the books back where they were meant to be when he leaves. The kid—okay, he wasn’t exactly a kid at all: more like a ~~really attractive~~ college student with moles ~~begging to be licked all over~~ and a facial structure that suggested he was seventeen rather than twenty or twenty-one—pulls out a book and looks at it, nose scrunching as he gives a disbelieving shake of his head before re-shelving it one space to the right of its proper place. Derek glares and grinds his teeth together, busying himself by checking in some returned books. He’s going to have a heart attack if he looks at the atrocities being committed in front of him any longer.

“Hey!” The word sounds like a gunshot in the still air, and Derek drops the book he had just picked up onto his foot, which, _ouch,_ because it was _Grey’s Anatomy_ , and stares up into gorgeous caramel eyes that belong to Constellation Guy (because his moles make constellations, and he had to make a name for this guy if he kept thinking about him this frequently which he absolutely does not _._ At all. _)_. Their owner clears his throat. “Uh, hey,” he says again, licking his ~~illegally pouty~~ lips, “do you have, um, do you have _Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy_? I looked for it but couldn’t find it on the shelves where it usually is.” Long hands self-consciously rub the back of his neck, and Derek almost expires at the thought of those hands on his own body, stroking up and underneath his sweater and—and he’s still there, waiting for an answer. Oh, God. Could he tell Derek had been fantasizing _about_ him _in front of_ him?

“It might be in the stack to be re-shelved,” he replies gruffly. “Let me check you out—check it out for you.” His cheeks burn red at his slip up. Is it possible to sink into the floor and disappear?

A muffled noise erupts from Constellation Guy, and Derek only hunches his shoulders harder as he rifles through the pile. He can't bear to see what face the guy is making. “I don’t see it. Can’t help you.” He may be more brusque than necessary, but he can only take so much humiliation in one day.

“That’s-that’s cool. I just—my lit professor assigned it for a project, you know, and I just wanted to get a head start, I mean, it’s not like I haven’t read it a million times before, because, hey, that is an _awesome_ book, right, and I figured that since this library is so awesome I could get it from here, and—I-I’m just going to shut up now, Christ, don’t kill me with your death glare.” Derek just stares blankly, amazed that he can talk that long without pausing for breath.

It’s only after the guy has hightailed it out of the library (empty handed, too) that Derek realizes he just wasted a prime opportunity to talk to him. He probably even scared him off with his "ferocious eyebrow game, Der, you don’t even realize how terrifying it is" (Laura, ever uplifting as always) and wasted his chance. Derek sighs and lets his head hit the counter with a forlorn thunk.

 ~

The next time Constellation Guy comes in, wearing a ridiculous get up of a fitted red and black plaid shirt and tight navy jeans—okay, it’s not ridiculous, but who wears plaid and looks good in it? _Nobody_ , that’s who, except for him apparently, which is patently unfair—Derek is prepared, _Hitchhiker’s_ on the shelf below the counter. All he has to do is go and give it to him. Then he can maybe tell him he likes it too, even makes references to it, and hey, he also has the movie so they could watch it together sometime and then compare it to the book? He breathes in, straightens his brown tweed jacket nervously. He’s going to do it. He’s going to come out from behind the circulation desk and—

“Stiles!” A whirl of energy and unkempt, stereotypical college boy runs in through the doors of Derek’s library (okay, he’s technically only a graduate student getting his Master’s in English, but he still works at the circulation desk more than most anybody so it’s mostly the truth, anyhow) and runs up to Constellation Guy…Stiles. His name is Stiles. What kind of name is that? “Aren’t you coming to the party tonight? I heard that Danny’s going to be there, so you might have a chance!”

Stiles is…not his usual exuberant self. He looks at one book, putting it back where it belongs ~~and Derek is not upset that he’s not going to have to clean up after Stiles as per usual or that he may be attached~~ before saying quietly, “I don’t think it’s a good idea, Scotty. Danny…” he pauses, smiling tightly. “I like someone else, now.” Is it Derek’s imagination, or do his eyes dart towards Derek? His heart lurches, gives an uncomfortable one-two beat.

“Are you moping over Danny?” Scott asks, wide-eyed. “Is that why you’re in the library all the time? Cuz, dude, let me tell you, libraries are bad for your mental health. They’re all quiet and make you think about things. You should mope with me, man!” He slings an arm around Stiles’ shoulders companionably. Derek resists the urge to rip it right off. “We can watch movies and eat bad food and get _wasted._ ” The last is said with a shit-eating grin.

Stiles shakes his head. “I’m good, bro, but thanks. I think I’d like to stick around here for a little while longer.”

Scott pouts—and damn does that boy have a Grade A kicked puppy look—and says, “If you’re sure…”

“I’m sure.”

And just as quick as it happened, Scott whirls out again “to go see Allison!!!!!” and it’s just Derek and Stiles (and the other people who are studying in the library, but nobody cares about them. They’re just taking up air and space and don't even really check out the books.), which makes this the perfect opportunity to go talk to Stiles.

He grabs the book and ventures out after Stiles, who has made his way to the Women’s Health and Gender Studies section, which is conveniently close to Derek’s desk. Wait. Most times Stiles has been somehow browsing right by Derek, and Derek wants to analyze that but he's busy being right in front of Stiles and needing to say something so he's not officially lurking (because he doesn't, Laura, okay. He _doesn't lurk._ )

“I have your book for you,” he blurts idiotically, shoving it at Stiles. Great, he thinks. Great way to start a conversation. Not.

“Oh!” Stiles turns to face him. “What bo—oh _, right_ ,” he laughs nervously, more a titter than anything, “ _that book_. The book that I asked about. Right.” He nods vigorously, taking it. 

Derek's confused. Stiles had needed _Hitchhiker’s_ , right? Had he remembered the wrong book? “You wanted it, right?” he asked for clarification.

Stiles bites his lip, stuffs his free hand into his back jeans pocket. “I, um, yeah.” They stand there awkwardly, kind of staring at each other, and they break at the same time.

“I was lying—“

“Do you want—“

They both break off, laughing sheepishly.

“You go first,” Stiles offers, awkward, crooked, _perfect_ smile on his face.

Blinking owlishly, Derek freezes. “I wanted, you, the movie, there’s a—did you like the movie?” he blurts at last.

Stiles scrubs a hand through his hair, looking down at the floor for a moment before he looks up and meets Derek’s gaze, cheeks stained a bright pink. “I…Well, I haven’t seen it.” He shifts his weight between his feet. “I kind of. I wantedtoreadthebookbeforeIsawit.”

Wait. _Wait_. Derek processes the jumble of speech, and he wants to beam and pump his fist and the world is suddenly a great fantastic place, because if Stiles hasn’t read the book even though he said he did the last time he was in, did that mean he was trying to-to impress Derek?

He finds himself saying, “It’s pretty good.”

“Yeah?” Stiles catches Derek’s eyes, holding contact longer than socially acceptable.

“Yeah,” Derek continues evenly, even though his hands are clenching and unclenching at his sides, “but if I hadn’t read the book beforehand, I would have been a little confused. Sometimes it’s better to watch it with someone who knows what’s going on.”

Stiles’s look sharpens, and he looks (dare he say it) hopeful. “Is that an offer?”

“If you want it to be.” There it is: his offer, hanging out there for the whole world to see. Derek tries to hold his ground and not panic. There’s always Shakespeare waiting for him in the back if he gets rejected—that man knew how to write a comedy with a happy ending for all involved.

“Yes!” The word bursts out of Stiles so quickly that he looks surprised. “I mean, I’ve been coming to the library for ages because I saw you one time when I actually needed a book, and you were so cute and frowny over your need for perfect organization that I just, I just fell so hard that it was a little embarrassing, but I kept coming back and putting books in the wrong places so maybe you would notice me, and I couldn’t get up the courage to ask you out but—“

Derek shoves him hard against a bookshelf and seals his mouth over Stiles’s, kissing him hard. Stiles reciprocates enthusiastically, book dropping to the ground. “Stiles,” Derek says eventually, readjusting for a better, deeper angle, “don’t you know you have to be quiet in the library?”

“Oh my God,” Stiles replies breathlessly, “is this happening? Am I actually making out in a library with a megahot librarian?”

He grins, rucking Stiles’s thin graphic tee up and placing his hands on pale skin that he is so going to mark up later tonight if he has a chance. “You kind of are,” he replies, “but it’s against the rules, so I’m afraid I’m going to have to kick you out.”

“Wha-what?” A wide-eyed, confused look that Derek can’t resist, making him go in for another, longer round of nipping and sucking and o _h God, that swirly thing Stiles does with his tongue and lips against the hollow of Derek’s neck should be illegal_ , but he has to resist because he’s on his shift and he has _plans_ , plans that involve _Hitchiker’s Guide to the Galaxy_ playing in the background as they gratuitously make out on his couch later that night after eating Chinese food.

Derek swoops in for one last, bruising kiss, sucking hard on Stiles’s lower lip. “Yeah, but I was wondering if you wanted to grab dinner at my place tonight and maybe watch the movie?”

“A movie?” Stiles repeats, dazed. “Oh. _Oh_. A movie. Right.” There’s a pause, long enough that Derek’s new found confidence begins to fade, and he adds, quickly, “I mean, if you don’t want to—“

“I want to! I was just-I got caught up in your stupid eyes, okay? And your jacket. It's unreal how you somehow manage to make tweed hot.” Stiles flushes again. Derek follows the trail of red until it goes below his collar, and then Stiles’ words hits him, making him feel stupidly warm and fuzzy.

“So that’s a yes?”

“Yeah, and maybe I could-we could like make out some more, because that was kind of awesome?” Stiles is hopeful. “Or we could like, just watch the movie, and-Oh my God, I’m Stiles, I like mauled you and didn’t even tell you my name, I'm like the _worst_.” He’s horrified, and Derek is gone. Done. Kaput. He has fallen off the cliff and is embracing his absolute adoration of Stiles. He has no regrets.

“I’m Derek,” he replies. “Your friendly college librarian.”

“I hope you don’t get this friendly with everyone.” Stiles recovers quickly, smiling easily, “because that would kind of suck.”

Derek strengthens his hold on Stiles’s hips because he can, replying, “No, no, it’s just you.”

Stiles leans in. “I’m glad.” —and he’s angling his head, lashes sweeping across his cheekbones as his eyes close and they’re going to kiss again and it’s going to be great, when—

“This is a library, not a brothel!” Candice, the head librarian, is standing next to them, looking horrified. She glares at them, saying, “These books must be respected!”

“Sorry, ma’am.” Stiles is contrite, and she switches her gaze to Derek.

“And you, young man! What do you have to sa— _Derek_?”

Oh, shit. He’s in so much trouble. Well, at least he’s got Stiles.  

(And hopefully his job. That would be nice, too.)

**Author's Note:**

> There's a gratuitous use of dashes. I'm sorry: they both stammer and are awkward a lot. It's a thing. I squirmed so much writing this. Like, a constant state of wriggling. 
> 
> Come find me on tumblr at onthehowl.tumblr.com! (I s2g I need to figure out how to embed links in end-notes but I'm so technologically hopeless.) I'm generally flailing over these two idiots and the effing season that is going to kill me.
> 
>  
> 
> Based off Swingsetindecember's prompt on tumblr:
> 
> need more fic with derek being the curmudgeon of a librarian or grad student who wears big knit cable sweaters and tweed jackets


End file.
